


Drabbles

by gilliandersob



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:45:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilliandersob/pseuds/gilliandersob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of very short stories. Each chapter stands alone as its own piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Glowering

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter stands alone as its own piece. There are usually bits of stories I've written but haven't done anything else with.

### Glowering

Glowering is what she did best.

Yes, she was a superior pathologist, unsurpassed medical doctor; had managed to get me out of more than one scrape in our time together; she was intelligent, well-spoken; she can make grown men cry with nothing but words, I’m sure of it.

But when she turned her mouth down, narrowed her eyes, and put her hands on her hips with a toss of her head, it was a sight to behold. The frustration, annoyance, impatience – all of it was written on her face, so clearly. I would have enjoyed it more, but these looks always seemed to be pointed directly at me.

Did I deserve some of them? I definitely think so. However, I was not yet ready to yield on the particular matter at hand. She stood in the doorway of my little cave – directly off the living room – and glowered. She lowered her hands, leaving them hanging loosely at her sides. This was a good sign – she was relaxing a bit – though her face was still tense and her eyes were boring holes into my forehead.

“Who was the email from, Mulder?” She exhaled deeply as my name fell from her mouth. I could tell she wasn’t sure she truly wanted an answer to her question.

“No name was attached,” I replied simply. Hey, it was the only answer I had. What did she want from me?

Well, judging by her reaction to my answer, definitely not that.

Her hands were back on her hips, this time in fists. I rolled my chair backwards slowly until it hit the edge of my desk. She nodded her head a few times, no doubt mulling over many possible biting remarks to hit me with. She finally decided on one.

“Anonymous emails, Mulder? Is it really something that needs to be followed up on?”

Well. Her response was surprisingly kind.


	2. Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-IWTB, Mulder and Scully are on the run, driving endlessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Each chapter stands alone as its own piece. **

### Untitled

The bedside clock ticked, its monotonous symphony counting the minutes, hours. The lamp next to it didn’t work, so Scully had to have the bathroom light on to see in the dark. They’d thought about complaining at the front desk, but that would make their faces more memorable. It was a risk neither had been willing to take for a simple lamp. 

But then, the plan had been to be back on the road in only six short hours, long enough to get a bit of shut-eye before getting back in the car. It hadn’t worked out that way, though. 

\----------------------- 

They got out of the car, both weary and strung out. The vending machines near their room didn’t offer much in the way of variety, but they swallowed Little Debbie cupcakes and a shared can of Ginger Ale like it was their last meal. Hurrying into the small hotel room, Scully dumped their small overnight bag in a corner and collapsed on the bed farthest from the door, laying flat on her stomach. She felt Mulder tug at her shoes, and wriggled her feet only a bit to aid in their removal. Flipping over on her back, she watched him as he removed his own shoes, then his pants, to reveal the boxer briefs underneath. 

She noticed his eyes were heavy, hooded and dark. She wondered if he’d choose to sleep on the other bed or next to her. She secretly hoped he’d choose the latter. She didn’t feel like being alone, even if he was so nearby. 

They’d argued in the car the night before. She’d been in the passenger seat, lost in the endless darkness of the road. Mulder had driven stoically, his knuckles gripping the steering wheel tightly. 

It started by Scully hesitantly sharing doubts – doubts about their intentions, the eventual end to this madness, the possibility of ever living a normal life again without somehow managing to flee the country all together. She’d stewed in silence for a while, thoughts of her mother, brothers, of her nephews and of William creating a mosaic of loss in her imagination– one so vivid she wanted to scream, even if that meant letting Mulder know how eaten alive she was. 

Instead, she chose to ask a question. A small one, spit from her mouth like a bitter pill. 

“What are we doing?” 

“There’s a motel up here…I saw a billboard for it not too far back. We’ll stop there and get some rest.” 

“No. I mean, what are we doing?” 

Mulder looked at her then, clearly bewildered by her attitude. 

“Would you like to get out, Scully?” He started easing the car to the shoulder. 

“No. I just…I’m confused, Mulder. You wouldn’t leave me out here, anyway.” She nearly chuckled, but swallowed it down. 

Mulder didn’t reply, but she heard him chewing those damned sunflower seeds. Crunch, crunch – the noise drove her insane at times. She fingered the edge of her sweater, not knowing how to continue the conversation without really getting thrown out of the car. 

“What are you confused about, Scully?” Mulder asked. The sound of his voice was barely discernible over the road noise. 

“I miss all of them, Mulder. I’m afraid of the road becoming my entire life. I just…I want to know if you have any kind of idea about where we’re going to end up.” 

Mulder sighed, having had the same thoughts as she. Only difference was, there was no one back home for him to miss. He didn’t have a mother, a father, or siblings to yearn for. William wasn’t theirs anymore. It was just he and Scully. His whole world was the road. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that he had a plan, that he knew exactly where they were going, that they’d definitely be happy. But he knew he couldn’t – he was as clueless as she was, at least right now. He couldn’t help but be annoyed – why was she bringing this up now? He was so tired, only wanted to sleep and forget things for a few hours. Besides, who was she to question him, like this had been his idea from the beginning. She’d become part of this willingly. He hadn’t pointed a gun at her head, forced her to help him escape from prison. 

“You know, Scully. You can get out any time. I’ll be fine – I was before, when I was alone.” 

Scully crossed her arms and stared out the window, not knowing what to say to that little remark. She was too irritated with Mulder to respond at all, really. She needed a shower and a hot meal. Not Mulder and his snide remarks, or those damned sunflower seeds.


	3. Untitled 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one came from a piece I never finished that I'd titled 'Home'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Each chapter stands alone as its own piece**

### Untitled 2

Scully was rooting in the attic for something - a piece of paper she’d held on to for years. It had William’s name on it, written sloppily in her hurried hand. She didn’t recall writing it, but after saying goodbye to him, she’d gone through her apartment and piled everything that reminded her of him into a pile on her coffee table. A small pair of shoes; a baby bonnet her mother had knit before he was born; the baby book she’d started. This piece of paper was an afterthought. She eyed it while standing next to the phone in the kitchen, trying to think if she’d forgotten anything.

A box in the attic held all these treasures, and during times like today, she went up to the attic, quiet as a mouse, and - she really hated to admit it - wallowed in the memories seeing the items brought back. 

She’d lost a patient the day before - a young girl around nine years old. Sadly, the loss of a child in her care wasn’t terribly rare. A lot of children had terminal illnesses, and it was only a matter of time. It didn’t matter to Scully, though. Each and every child who passed away hurt her to the core. For at least a few days after a loss, she avoided Mulder. The concern in his face somehow made it worse. 

Each and every time, she allowed herself to grieve for William. These bouts of sorrow mixed with an enormous amount of guilt consumed her. She wasn’t sure where he was anymore, if he was safe, or if he was happy. 

Rooting through the box, she wasn’t paying attention to what she was looking at. Papers, trinkets, gifts long forgotten. Whatever was in the box was irrelevant. Her mind was on the baby she’d been able to hold on to for a short time. The guilt gnawed at her every waking second, and on this day she had the added heaviness of another lost child. 

The box in front of her became a blur as she teared up, angry over William, over the little girl in the hospital bed, over what life had become. She’d reached into the box and retrieved a baseball. Gritting her teeth, she’d tossed it with all her might at the window. The sound of the shattering glass was a relief somehow, and she reveled in the light hitting the bits of glass as they flew through the air, out onto the roof. 

It wasn’t often her emotions got the better of her, and she wasn’t surprised to hear Mulder’s footsteps racing up the stairs. She’d pulled him out of his office with her stunt, and now she’d have to come clean. He’d appeared in the doorway, his face wearing a confused expression. 

“What was that?” he asked, coming nearer to Scully. She was still crouched in front of the box and she nodded at the window with her head. 

“Baseball.” 

“What?” 

“I threw a baseball through the window.” 

There was a pause. Scully had suddenly wanted to laugh, but she swallowed it and looked up at Mulder. 

“I lost a patient. I was upset, that’s all.” 

Mulder hadn’t said anything, just nodded. 

“You hungry?” he’d asked. They’d had dinner, and the next day the baseball was found in the yard.


	4. Dinner Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mulder and Scully throw a dinner party." --- Prompt given to me by dashakay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Each chapter stands alone as its own piece.**

### Dinner Party

Standing in the living room, surveying their work, they both eyed Mulder’s office together. It was the only thing they hadn’t bothered attempting to clean or even straighten. 

“Let’s just leave the door shut,” Scully stated. It was the easiest solution. 

“I’m not ashamed of my work, Scully.” 

“Yeah….well. Bill and his family are coming.” 

“Great. My yearly dose of shame is taken care of,” Mulder muttered. 

“He’ll behave himself, Mulder. He actually sounded happy about seeing us. I just…don’t want to give him any fuel.” She gave a sheepish grin as she sat on the sofa, taking a deep breath. She hoped everything would go well. 

Bill had seemed excited. He’d heard so few words from his sister - a cryptic note here and there when it was safe, written on hospital stationery, the coded messages so carefully crafted. When the phone call was made inviting his family for dinner at their house, Scully was relieved to hear him say yes without hesitating. 

Mulder pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her body. Her head rested on his chest, and she turned to kiss him through his shirt. 

“He better not call me a sorry son-of-a-bitch again.” 

Scully’s body shook with suppressed laughter, and she pressed herself into him more, enjoying his warmth. 

“It’s okay, Mulder. 

She’d decided a few weeks previous that it was time to have some company that wasn’t the stray tabby cat that sometimes ended up on their porch. Its black fur and white markings above its eyes gave it a stern look. Mulder named it Skinner. 

So, Scully spent time shopping for plates that weren’t chipped and napkins that weren’t Bounty paper towels. She perused tons of cook books for just the right recipe for braised lamb chops, and even talked Mulder into buying a new tie. 

"Why do I have to dress up?” 

“I just want us to look nice. You haven’t bought a new tie since 1995, Mulder.” 

She’d been so relieved that he bought one at all that she refrained from complaining about the fact that it had tiny UFOs on it. 

It was the least he could do for the first company they’d had in years.


End file.
